Life, Existence, and Cigarette Smoke
by SmittiMJC
Summary: There was a time before Blood Gulch, when the son of a whore, The youngest of 17, a human programmed of lies, and the orphans of a circus freak fought an entirely different war, trapped in the toxic cloud of their lives...not unlike cigarette smoke.   RvB Chronicles the descent of the BGC Boys into Blood Gulch, starting from the beginning.
1. Cookie Jar Soldier

"Michael! Goddammit…Jan where the hell did he go?"

Nessa gave her older sister an impatient glare where she sat on their couch enjoying a book. On the cover a half-naked man was groping desperately to an even lesser clothed female. Both of their hair was gone with the wind, just as Jan's attention span had gone from the baby of the family; Michael. Nessa would have thrown something at her if she wasn't so worried. Michael got into a lot of things. And to top it all off he wasn't exactly the smartest of children. Regardless, he was going to get the ultimate beating when she found him. Glancing around the almost empty room she noted all 16 of her sisters seemed unconcerned for the little idiot's whereabouts. All were preoccupied. _A house full of dumb blondes_, Nessa thought glumly, ignoring the fact that she too fit that mold.

A gruff grunt came from the kitchen behind her, reminding her that their father was still in attendance today.

"Dad!"

"What?" He stepped from the kitchen wearing gray sweats and a beater and picked at the bronze stubble around his chin before scratching at his neat trim of a haircut. He really didn't look like he had sired 18 kids.

"Have you seen…Michael?"

He blinked for a moment and then nodded raising a hand towards the kitchen, a glass of milk sloshing in his hand, "Oh yeah…he's in the kitchen with me."

She sighed inside but didnt reveal her concern to their father, "Oh…Why is he so-"

"Quiet?" Her father suggested, "He's amazingly _normal_ when you give him cookies."

Cookies…_how stupid…_ She threw her hands up and turned to join her sisters. As soon as her back was to him, he made his way back into the kitchen where little Michael sat atop the counter staring almost pensively from the window at the craters of the moon's surface. He smiled to himself as he posted against the wall waiting for the eight year old to notice hm. it took him longer than he thought before he turned to face him, a cookie crumbling between his small fingers and blue eyes bright and slightly narrowed with the strain it seemed to cause him to think, "David."

"I prefer 'dad' but what is it, Caboose?"

_Michael _just seemed far to impressive for such an underwhelming kid. Caboose flowed so much easier. David really wasnt sure whether or not he even realized the difference. Judging by said childs vacant gawk, He felt it safe to confirm his thought process.

"Where does the moon end?"

David glanced with only his eyes out the window then blinked back to his son shrugging, "I don't know. Our little colony here is pretty…eh, desolate, you know. We don't have much going on here."

Michael nodded slowly, "Yeah…I don't really think this place is where I want to be…"

David snickered leaning beside his son, "Oh yeah, Caboose? Well then where you going to be? This isn't earth; you can't just sign up for the army or go to college. This is the fucking moon, kiddo. "

He frowned, "Yeah, I know. Where did mom go?"

"She…Sheila just really didnt want to stay here with me I guess."

"But weren't you guys together? I'm going to get married one day. And I'll make my wife…muffins."

"Son, that sounds really fucking gross. You need more then muffins to make a woman stay with you. Listen. Let me pass to you a little Caboose family wisdom…or stupidity really. But My dad told me, why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?" He offered Michael his glass and he took it his brows rising as he tilted his body back to finish the cup. He set it beside him and wiped the white mustache from his face.

"Want another cookie?"

Before Michael could nod a vigorous yes, he had already handed him the nearly empty jar. Rather than eat the 3 cookies left, Michael took them out and set them beside him placing the jar over his head, keeping it above his eyes so he could see his father. With the amusement of a smile touching his lips he supported the jar with both hands, "Does it look like a helmet?"

"Uh…Yeah, you're a regular soldier, Caboose."

Caboose released one hand so the jar fell on a tilt, occluding one of his blue eyes and grabbed a cookie with his free hand, "I think I should go to school first."

"You're _already _in school. Yeah, and after school is college, Caboose."

He finished his cookie and returned his hand to the jar on his head to support it out of his eyesight, "Will it be anything like the army?"

"Been there done that, son. Wasn't really worth the enthusiasm."

"Were you in the…_army_?" Caboose whispered tugging the jar into place. David smirked, "You guys don't know anything about me…guess I should be around more. Would you like that?"

"No."

"Well fine. I'll stay out every night."

"So, you were in the…_army_?" He whispered again.

"Yeah I was in the goddamned _army_. By accident. Like I told you, it wasn't worth shit. I _thought_ I was signing up for college."

"...Pretty dumb."

There was a long pause of silence before anyone spoke. But it wasn't Caboose or David. Nessa had peeked her head into the kitchen, "_Such_ a dumbass. Look, dad, mom just called. She said she wants to see us."

David grinned but Caboose just stared back out the window, not interested in the woman he knew by only six letters and a soft voice delivered through a cold phone in a loud household.

"Sheila?" He asked his sister softly.

She nodded, "Yeah, Sheila. Buuuut lets work on calling her _mom_."


	2. Extracurricular Inactivity

_What started World War…3?_

Just like its predecessors, the sheet of paper was crumbled and thrown on the floor of the room Tucker shared with his mother. His bed was a folded blanket and a sheet while hers was just a futon mattress. The rest of their little box was occupied by various tubes and creams and clothes and medications.

Outside of their room was a box of a kitchen and a bathroom attached off to the side. Outside of that…well a whole neighborhood of trife awaited outside. His neighbors were obnoxious, loud and rude…to put it kindly. Bluntly, they were a horde of fucking cockbites. La-La, as the neighborhood had dubbed her, would be out strolling for a while. She was by no means clean and was by no means ever at the house either. _Dirty whore. _He jammed his pencil back into the corner if his mouth and shifted to sit on his knees as his feet fell asleep. He shivered as he forced the numb limbs into a sitting position. The table he was pressing on was probably three days from collapsing in on itself. Splinters were rising from the slope of a future crack in the center, ruining his new homework sheet as he tried to figure out half the stupid shit his teachers assured him was vital to his survival.

_Shit, if knowing the causes of war is going to help me live longer why didn't it help any other soldier in history?_

He gently wrote his name in the corner of the empty page then set it aside to join the stack of homework he was also never going to turn in.

He only attempted it to give himself something to do after school besides be embarrassed by accidentally running into his mother on the streets. It only took one time to make that mistake before he had decided to make better use of his time.

A loud beep sounded in the kitchen and he stood up to retrieve his bowl of ravioli. The red sauce bubbled up then settled as he returned to the table and sat it next to him. He narrowed his dark eyes on the next question and groaned at the extra effort he had to exert just to make clear the blurry images on the page. He had needed glasses for a while, but La-La had expenses to pay and bills to manage at the bare minimum, so he put up with it and peacefully napped for most of his classes. The doubled image had just faded into one when the door creaked open and a chocolate woman with long dark hair and a skirt that covered nothing strolled in like a red carpet had been rolled out for her. Her dark eyes flashed to Tucker only for a moment before she continued into the kitchen.

"Lavernius, where's my lunch?" She snapped.

He snickered while inhaling his ravioli so she wouldn't ask for any, "I dunno. What am I, your fucking keeper?"

"My _keepers _pay be, baby. That's more than you've done so far already."

"Meh, not enough if you're asking _me_ for lunch."

She slammed the cabinet shut and shoved a granola bar down her throat, heading back to the door, "Don't eat any more of my food unless you're going to help put money in here."

"What? I'm only ten! What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Figure it out!" She yelled back over the sound of the door shutting.

He turned back to his paper and blinked when he caught the last word on the edge of a piece of paper beneath it, "Money…" He read aloud.

He tossed the paper aside and pulled the newspaper up to his nose to be able to read it.

"Must be…aw, fuckberries." He set it back down and laid his head on the table wondering if there was possibly a way out if the age barrier for work. Then his thoughts went onto if there was any possible way out of _work itself_. La-La only knew of work related to sex, which Tucker had caught onto, but he needed a real job. He stood up and pulled an aqua hoodie over his head. Pushing his feet into his sneakers, he grabbed a few quarters from the couch and headed to the door, head up and eyes narrowed against the faintly filtered sunlight of the mid-day. He ignored the snickers he heard as he walked- 'That's La-La's boy,' 'Wonder if he's a pro like his mom…'- he paused in front of a phone booth and dialed in the only number he knew and somewhat regularly called other than 911.

After listening to the dial a few times a voice picked up, half asleep and a little hung-over, "What's up, Jr.? You never call me yourself."

Tucker shrugged, realized people couldn't see through phones and muttered, "I need a break. Mom's being a nasty tramp again and she wants me to get a job. Think ya'll could help?" He added hopefully.

There was a small break in the conversation where Tucker could hear the inevitable 'no' but it didn't come. Instead, Lavernius Sr. yawned, "She's such a child killing fucktard. You're like eight. You can't get a j- whatever, anyway, it's not my week to get you, you know."

"Yeah, I know."

"Alright, meet me on the corner than. Be there in an hour."

Tucker frowned, "A whole hour? That's like 80 minutes."

"An hour is _60_ minutes, retard. Just hang out where you're at like you usually do. If your hungry-"

"Nah, I ate." He said, "I'll just be bored."

"You'll be fine. I'm getting dressed so I'm gonna hang u-"

"Hey, wait. Just talk to me while I wait."

A sigh filled the line but he didn't hang up so Tucker sat down beneath the phone and held it in his hand. He pulled his hood up with the other and blew a dark curl from his face.

"…Dad?"

"Yeah?" Came his far away voice.

"…What are you doing?"

"…"

"…"

"What?"

"I said, what are you doing?"

"…"

"…"

"…Jr., don't make me change my mind."


	3. Blind Pretending

Kids pretend all the time, right? They pretended they were invincible. Untouchable. _Steel._ They weren't the weakest brand of man; they were winged birds and explorers. They were wild cougars terrorizing natives in the park. But no matter how hard…Grif just couldn't see through those eyes. Each child playing tag didn't interest him in the least. He kept his eyes on his younger sister. Not that she was moving much. She was the only child present wearing a yellow tube top jumper instead of a more…conservative kiddy get up. She had actually attracted half the kids at play away to watch her support her weight on her hands and still touch her toes to the playground mat. Her blonde head came up so she could smile at her brother.

"_Awesome!_ Look bro!"

He gave her a \weak grin and raised a hand that was probably supposed to be a wave, but stopped in mid-motion.

"Yeah…"

She moved all her weight to her hands in a headstand then flipped to her toes with a bow, "TaDa!"

Clapping and laughter brightened her nervous smile with confidence. Grif rolled his eyes, not because of jealousy or anything. Sister was just such a butterfly in public it made him notice how alike zombies everyone else seemed to be. The girls gave her glares or smiles and the boys…_What the hell?_ Lost in thought, Grif hadn't noticed that one of the little boys had made his way to the front and his hand had made its way to her shoulder, and was slowly going lower.

"Hey! What the fuck are you doing?" Grif stood, his tall form awkward because of his slight extra weight.

The kid was openly fearful and immediately removed his hand from KaiKaina. Anger heated his fists but it died away when he realized the parents were unfortuneatly still present and didn't appreciate his language.

"Young man! Where are your parents!" A woman snapped.

Kai had moved behind him curiously, but he refused to be cowed by the woman before him. His own mother had definitely scared him…for _different_ reasons. But strangers, he just didn't care about.

"Where's your kid?" He asked back, "He was touching my little sister."

"I brought my _daughter_." The woman defended.

"Uh…well, one of those boys touched my sister so, um."

"You had better watch your mouth, little boy." She dismissed him with an about face and retreated back to the playground, shepperding the other children and concerned parents with her.

_Just pretend…_

Grif watched them, jaded, but felt some sort of emotion shape his expression when he turned behind him and found his little sister with tears in her green eyes.

"Don't cry, Kai. We'll just go home. I'll watch all you're tricks." He lied. Once they got back to the house he would be doing nothing but packing their bags and finding them a way back to Hawaii of anywhere.

_Where are your parents? Where-_

"-is mommy?"

Grif tuned back in and stared at his sister, rubbing a hand over the unruly brown mess of hair on his head. The six year old would never understand, 'mommy wrote us a note this morning and said she was going to join and stay with the circus.'

Actually, it was a tad more poetic. But that's all it said to Grif. Now he and Kai were alone. He had only found it this morning but she hadn't been home for at least a week prior to. He just hadn't noticed since she was often out with the circus performers, earning their living. Confused and suddenly so much more overweight then he'd been when he went to sleep he had ignored the gap in his stomach and replaced it with little Kai's presence. Worrying about her helped him forget that his mother wasn't a cause for concern anymore. His sister was.

And that sister needed an answer, even if it wasn't the right one.

"Ma went to work,"

"Why for so long? She isn't gone this long normally…that's kind of weird."

"Well she's there." He assured her, never so happy his sis didn't quite have it all.

"Okay!"

Like magic the tears trembled down her cheeks and dried there in the afternoon sun as they walked home, down three alleys and into a quiet area near the beach. Wasn't Hawaii…but, eh. Close enough. He tucked his hand into his orange shorts and pretended to produce a key to unlock a door that wasn't locked. He pushed it open and led Kai in, smiling to himself when she plopped down on the living room floor and rolled over to her back. She rested her hands on her stomach and sighed, "Man, we need to eat something other than you're secret Oreos today."

"They aren't a secret. I'm going to let you starve next time."

"Don't do me any favors, big brother."

"Trying not to." He climbed onto the counter, stripped bare of anything of importance days ago by someone who realized Grif didn't _actually_ lock the door. He wasn't sure if the culprit was still in the area but probably not…hopefully.

He pulled down a bag of Oreos and tossed one to his sister who caught it with her forehead just as she sat up.

"Ouch! That's kind of mean!"

"Eh, pay attention next time. Kai…while Ma's at work me and you are going to leave for a while."

"Okay!"

He lay beside her and pretended he hadn't read his mother's note that morning.

_I'm sorry Dexter. Please try to take care of your sister. I'm tired of pretending I fit in when I'm like, not very popular round here. I just can't live like this anymore. Not with the two of you behind me. I hope you can understand. You weren't born with any issues but you're sister…um, well the list seems to go on. I love you bolth. I'm permanently joinng the circus._

"Bro?"

"Hmm?"

"Where are _we _going?"

"Well…I don't know yet. But we'll get it. Eventually. Probably."

"Whatever." She bit into her Oreo and frowned, "This gray stuff between the cookies is gross."

_The filling_? Grif smirked, "The filling is the best part!"

"Some gray food is gross." She argued.

"Yup…" He found himself agreeing but sat up and gawked at her after a delay in his common sense, "wait, what?"


	4. Like Taking Candy

_No vigil to the right._ A blonde head flicked behind a couch, thoroughly amusing the woman folding laundry on it.

"No enemies on the right! Except you! Double O Donut takes down another victim with his awesome jetpack!" The blonde head popped out from behind the upholstery with a flurry of poorly imitated jetpack sound effects and charged the woman in a leap described no better than an _epic_ fail. She dropped a freshly folded shirt and caught him with one arm by the ankle before he could taste the auburn fibers in her latest matching carpet and dropped him beside her.

"Whoa! You've got a good arm mom!"

She smiled pleasantly at his uncanny enthusiasm and laughed, flexing her biceps, "That's funny seeing as though I never really do anything with my arms except catch you."

"Yeah, that's okay. How did you know I was there?"

The corners of her lips as well as her eyebrows rose considerably as she wondered how to answer without offending him," well…I always know when my baby boy is near me. I love you, my little donut."

Donut grinned back then directed his powder blue eyes to a picture on the table by the couch, "You loved dad too right? Before he went to join the war, I mean. Cause everyone knows war can make a guy super, _super_ grumpy and stuff."

Elen couldn't bring herself to feel sorrow when she thought of her late husband anymore. At least not initially. Rather, regretful pride swelled from her heart now, because he hadn't died for nothing…not completely. He had met, loved and even partially raised little Franklin Delano Donut before being drafted and consequentially, murdered by the covenant. Or so the soldiers had told her and Donut when the lifeless husk of a once vibrant blonde man was carted out of a helicopter. He would never see his son act in his first play or..._attempt_ to be a soldier like the father he admired.

"Oh, yeah. I loved you're father like it was nobody's business."

"It _wasn't_ anybody's business, mom! Think I'll be as good a soldier as dad?"

_No._

"Yes. Absolutely."

Donut was definitely a determined child but there was no denying he was a tad…flamboyant. Just a tad. He was also ten times more gullible than said soldier and had a bit of innocence that would be welcomed only by death in war. She just couldnt bring herself to upset him.

"I think I'll be a really good soldier."

Elen stood from the couch holding a few of the more stained beyond repair articles of clothing and began walking towards the window until Donut used himself as an anchor and clamped himself around her ankle, "Where are you going?"

Sighing, she lifted him to his feet. "Franklin, I'm just looking out the window."

"Every other time you do that you _cry_." He argued, watching her as she relaxed herself along the bay window. He joined her, seeing no gain in reason, and brushed the crimson satin of her curtains aside to see outside, resting a supportive hand on hers where it sat on the sill.

_I shouldn't have talked about dad…_ Donut thought, feeling a familiar bitter regret that he often felt when his admiration brought his father's name out of his imagination and into his mouth. Once he was mentioned, his mother would often lose herself to anything outside of him, pretend he wasn't there.

"Mom, I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

"Franklin Delano Donut."

That meant 'quiet' so he shut his mouth and looked out the window. He was almost surprised to feel his mother's soft blonde head against his. _Great, you upset her Donut. Now what?_

They sat in their silence for at least a minute before Donut felt the warm dampness of a tear on his hand. He glanced up to his mother's face and closed his eyes against the desire to just tell her to stop.

"Mom…"

"Franklin, make your mother a promise."

"If I do will you stop crying?"

She pulled her head up and wiped her eyes nodding.

"Okay then…" He held her face in his hands and checked to be sure her tears were gone. "What's the promise?"

"Promise me that as long as I'm alive you won't walk out the door and join the army. Promise me you'll go to school, study and start a family. Hopefully when you're done with school it won't be too late for you."

He let his hands fall from her face and looked back out the window, "I can't do that."

The soiled clothes were clenched in her hands, "…Why not? You're father never came back when he walked out that door."

"And that's _why_." He said matter of factly, his normal cheerful undertone back, "I can't promise you what he promised you. When he promised, he died. I don't want to die, mom. I'll be a really good soldier and I promise when I leave that door I will come back. I mean, you know, alive. I'll come back alive. I promise!"

He gave her thumbs up and a smile which she returned, albeit with less enthusiasm. "You are a very… _unique_ child."

"And you're a very unique mom! By the way…is that my favorite red shirt?"

She found herself staring at the inappropriately bleached shirt and shrugged apologetically, "Now it's…_lightish red_?"

He stared at the shirt, then her, then the shirt again before beaming, "Yeah-he-he! Awesome!"


	5. Survival of The Fittest

"Teachers pet!"

Simmons groaned as he was shoved into the courtyard grass by yet another member of his recent hateful fan club. He tumbled past the grass to the concrete sidewalk and hit it a tad softer than he should have since he caught himself on his now scraped palms. Standing shakily he found himself face to face with another tormentor. Gasping shyly he back away.

"You are such a know it all! Just go home and kill yourself!" the male laughed.

He smirked at the suggestion, as doing so wouldn't alter his living conditions…just his living. _What an inefficient insult._ But he had learned earlier in the month that arguing with the kids at his school particularly pointless. They all seemed to say the same thing. The same dumb argument. He was dumb for being smart, and they were smart for being insecure.

"Idiots…"He muttered, fear filling him even after the words had left his mouth. He wasn't a coward, but he wasn't stupid either. There were four of them and 1 of him. Unfortunately one of them heard him and yelled out an angry, "What!"

_Okay Simmons, you can either be bold or be smart…_If he did decide to get bold, he could always run. But being smart would open the door for them to continue to walk all over him. _Why not both?_

He took a deep breath, "You heard me! You're all idiots!" He backed up out of fighting range but they fell upon him as a whole. He threw his legs out as they tackled him to the ground and got a lucky shot clipping one of them in the side. One fell back to aid his fellow now kicked jackass but the other two kept in pursuit. Simmons jumped to his feet and didn't hesitate and heading straight for the school gate. He wrapped his fingers around the cool metal mesh and hoisted his body just out of reach. Steadying his footing inside another square and continued up. He was almost to the top when he felt his weight and someone else's pull the gate back.

"Leave me alone!" He yelled.

The last of the bullies was not so easily deterred though. He clung to the gate just as desperately as Simmons.

"Get down here coward!"

"You and your friends are ganging up on me and I'm the coward?" Simmons snapped, hefting his weight despite the leaning gate . He fell to the ground on the other side, gave his body no time to recover, and started running home. He could hear them shouting behind him but he didn't care at this point. Despite his active lifestyle, he was panting and the sky had grown violet by the time he reached His front door. His mother answered and frowned down at him and his sweaty face.

"Richard…"

"It's_ Dick_, mom. And I'm alright…just some kids at school…you know, again."

She blinked but continued to block the door with her body, "You wanna talk about it?"

"…no."

"Oh? Well why not. I hope you aren't letting those kids make you their bitch again."

"What? No, no of course not. Why would you even think that? No…" He willed himself to attempt eye contact to help make his story more convincing but all it did was make obvious his terrible lying.

"Richard What the hell! Stop letting those damn punks torment you!" She swatted the back of his head but since he anticipated it and went to jump away she hit a little lower.

"Ow! The nape of my neck!" He cried, falling to the floor.

"You are lucky it wasn't you're _ass_" She said grabbing his collar and tossing him inside the house, "I don't understand how every school you go to you manage to collect people who dislike you."

He kept a hand over his "wounded" neck and shrugged, "guess I'm just popular…"

"Don't be a smart alec. What are you doing?"

"Actually mom, they say a parent is at least 75% for their children's behavior. What are _you _doi-Son of a bitch!" he squealed as she whacked him again, successfully landing her blow to the back of his head.

"Richard-"

"Dick." He croaked.

"_Richard_, I'm serious. You can't make everyone like you, then you'd be a kiss ass, but you can't let them bully you either. Be a leader for once." She added the last part softly and he noticed the tone and looked up weakly.

"They don't like me because I'm smart. How can I defend being smart…being smart is dumb…to them."

She kneeled beside him and kissed his closed eyes before tears could form, "_Er is niets mis met smart mijn zoon._"

"huh?"

"I said, theres nothng wrong with being smart my son. People will always try to intimidate what they fear and ignorance fears intelligence. Your smart like your mother is all."

"Really? But you didnt go to college."

"Well that because your father was..._home schooling_ me, but I still learned a lot."

"Whats 345 multiplied by 54?"

"4,840."

He smiled at her in awe, "Woah, mom!"

"See. Now lets get you cleaned up..."

He stood up and observed their newest house, boxes everywhere though theyd been there for a while and empty bottles scattered where his dad must have been.

"Dad was here today?"

"No. Those were in his box when I unpacked it."

"He said he didnt drink anymore." Simmons chided bitterly.

"Yeah, well, not any _less_ either. I didnt bother to tell him where we moved to either."

Dissapointed at his fathers sad attendence...yet again, simmons retired to their little balcony and stared out.

There had to be a point n life when things got better, right? Like, not just _a little improvement _better, but _seriously fucking_ better. It happened to everyone else. Or at least it seemed to.

"You shouldn't stand there like that, Rich. You might fall off."

"It's _Dick,_ Mom, and I wish I would." He turned and faced his mother, ashamed of his outburst when he caught her distressed countenance. Her chocolate hair was pulled back into a sloppy bun and her green eyes were glittering as if someone had shattered an emerald and mixed it with pant.

_Shattered_, he thought glumly, _what a perfect metaphor to describe our little family._

By family, of course, he meant himself and his mother. His father made appearances here and there but they were few and far between. His expected absence actually made it painfully clear how much he thought of his son. To divert his thoughts he kneeled beside one of the mountains of boxes. He tore at the tape with his fingers and managed to get it off before opening the box. He peered down and smirked at the kitchen utensils within. He had been hoping for his own things to be revealed so he could begin to unpack some life into his new room but his mother had been in such a rush to move away from the war battered planet they'd previously lived on she had simply thrown everything in a box and left. Regardless, he grabbed a few things and headed into the kitchen to put them away, glancing back where his mother was watching him. He didn't comment and she looked away shortly afterward. Only moments after he had entered the kitchen he heard her footsteps behind him.

"Hey mom…I know this is kind of stupid but…do you know where dad went?"

He didn't really care as much as it seemed, but he was well aware they would need more than just the two of them to survive so close to the covenant war. As he expected she shrugged.

"Who gives a fuck? He'll come around when he needs something."

Rich turned back to the kitchen counter and began setting dishes down while pondering his own answer. Maybe he was here too. But his mother hadn't told him where she was moving…well that didn't stop him the last three times they'd moved either.

"Yeah…"

"Richard, don't worry about him. You have school tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am." He gritted out begrudgingly, "Wouldn't wanna miss that. Who would they beat the shit out of if not me?"

"In fact, let me handle this unpacking and you go get yourself ready for bed."

She reached out and repossessed everything left in his arms before nudging him away. Of course, he did as she said but he knew nothing would be unpacked when he got up. He didn't even have a place to sleep. For the past month of their living in the decent apartment he'd slept on a blanket by the balcony, hoping, maybe too optimistically, that he'd one day see something there that would take him away. Away from his miserable school existence and from his dull home life.

He headed towards their bathroom, enjoyed a warm bath, dressed, and relaxed against his blanket. He began his star counting routine and left off at 63 before he dozed off, oblivious to the sound of his mother unpacking.


	6. Run Away Soldier

Sneakers pounding loose dirt along with red dust filled the dry air with far too much vigor for the opposing two track teams to stand, because down on the track, next to receive the baton stood red teams fastest runner and blue teams most timid recruit. Doc wasn't the_ teams_ first pick...he was the _teachers_. They sighed deeply as they watched him trembling beside Damon, red teams ace. Both looked anxious as they held their hands out behind them waiting for the warm, sweat dampened metal to brush their fingertips.

"Hey, DuFresne."

Doc didn't turn his head but his eyes met the eyes of his opponent, "Damon?"

"Why'd they pick you? I know you would never volunteer for this. You don't like competition right? So whats good?"

"Oh that," Doc laughed uneasily as the footsteps of his teammate got louder behind him, "Well, my teacher told me that if I didn't compete in the final before graduation, guess who wouldn't have a diploma?" He laughed as if he were telling the joke. Seeing the bored expression on his adversary's face though he explained it, "He meant me."

"uh-_Yeah_, I picked up on that."

"Mmm, oh..." He shifted from leg to leg awkwardly until a sudden chill met his hand. Metal filled it and without more than a polite, 'Sorry!' he clutched it and forced every muscle in the leg he had been leaning into to propel him forward. He nearly tripped from the force but found balance just in time for Damon to catch up beside him. Both their feet tore at the dirty track terrain, dust being flung at the air from their shoes. Doc could hear as well as feel his heart straining to leave his chest but he ignored it, arms up, head up, and hopes up. Damon was at his neck with as much ease as a Cheetah no matter how much power Doc put into his body. He could see though that Damon was in just as deep a strain as he himself was. His eyes were squeezed shut and Doc could see the sweat tracing to his chin, calling attention to the salty substance leaking from his own face. The air was hot, so there was no relief from the beating they were taking from the sun. Only the goal to make it across the finish line first. He blinked against the gleam of the sunlight and squinted as he trudged on and curved the track. Now the cheering started.

Doc's team, the blue team, color coded to support the war, was silent in shock at seeing Doc of all people keeping up with Damon, while the Blue team was furiously goading Damon to beat Doc, and beat him_ good_.

"Winning isn't _everything_!" He called to Damon's team who responded with prompt boo's and a myriad of pleasant insults. He was going to say something calming but he dropped the idea when a handful of dust from Damon's advancing feet caught in his mouth.

"Oh, gross!" He spat to the side of the track and pushed his body to go even faster than before, only managing to stay behind Damon's shoulder.

Doc could barely feel his legs or even swallow now that he could taste the residue of grit under his tongue. His team must have noticed. Hoarse screaming beat at his ears.

"DuFresne! **_Run! Run, Run, Run! Go!_**"

"_Come on Frank_! Hurry up!"

"Lets Go!_ Beat_ him! Beat the **_shit_** outta him!"

"If you lose, _I'll_ beat the shit out of **_you_**!"

Doc threw his arms out harder than before as he and Damon rounded the final curve and blinked through sweat as well as tears to make out the blurred blob that was the white line in the dirt.

_It's **right there**...I can get there_!

He rounded up the last of his strength to force a sprint. He had already heard of runners pushing too hard and hitting "the wall". He didn't want that to happen. He didn't like the wall.

Damon didn't either.

Doc found him right at his neck and frowned. Damon was used to _winning_. Doc was used to _surrender_. He couldn't even imagine what was in store for him if he won. His coach would have a field day putting him into the lineup. But if he lost, his own team would have a field day kicking his ass.

_I hate conflict..._

With a distressed moan, he stopped his heavy legs from progressing and jogged over the line, right **behind** Damon.

Despite what he had expected, he was snatched up by one of his teammates and hugged. Another joined him, before the entire blue team was supporting Docs heavy weight. He laid his head back against someones palm and chocked on his bodies attempt to make him remember to breath. He rubbed his shirt over his stinging eyes to remove the building sweat and let his arms drop to his sides and into a crowd of the hands that carried him. From the corners of his eyes he could see a very pleased Damon being carried by his own team. Red team was too humbled by their victory to harass Blue team about their loss, forgotten by said team over the pride of finally _almost_ beating them.

Doc smiled._ Man, I wish they were always this way..._

He closed his eyes and they didn't open. Not on the track. When he did finally crack his eyelids open he was on a bed that felt like paper and a woman with light brown hair stood over him sighing.

"Oh _God_...Frank if you **ever** run like that again...You passed out."

He smiled and took his mothers hand, finally recognizing that 'mom' tone,

"Sorry. I really wanted try...but I got second thoughts when I reached the finish line. I didn't want our teams fighting."

"_And_?"

"_And_ I** really** didn't want Coach picking me anymore." He laughed.

"Well, You have to stay here for the next hour...Think you'll be alright without me?"

Doc smirked, "Mom, I'm an only child but that doesn't mean I cant handle you not being around. Go on ahead. I'll be fine." He said cheerfully. "I guess. Anyway, its alright. I'll be okay."

She leaned over his forehead and pushed his brown hair aside to give him a kiss, "I'll be back to get you later." He didn't wipe the kiss away until she had gone and a doctor walked in, noticing the emblazoned stain of her lips on his head, and chuckled.

"Girlfriend?" His doctor asked.

"My...my _mom_, actually."

"Eh, well, you worked your body pretty hard kid. Don't you know you have to drink before running around in that hot sun?"

"Sorry."

The doctor shrugged, "Your _body_ pays the price, not _me_. Don't be sorry to me. Listen," He rifled through the files at his disposal, "_Frank_. You really need to know these things to avoid future problems. Learning medicine can be very helpful. The way the human body works...very fascinating."

Doc frowned. He thought the human body was pretty gross...but whatever.

"You know your mother tells me you're pretty smart. Maybe you should be a doctor?"

Doc had no immediate response to that question so he was grateful that a nurse walked in at that time with a tray of meat and vegetables on hand. The scent traveled to Doc and his stomach growled at the prospect. Noticing the meat he realized a good answer.

"I'm not really into being responsible for lives like that...I'm a vegetarian too so any meat, human or otherwise is kind of gross to me."

"You sound like a pacifist."

"A- a pacifist? "

"Yeah, like a pacifier. Same implication. Its a person opposed to violence and war. A peace keeper."

"Oh yeah! that does sound like me." He sat up and took a forkful of vegetables as the doctor talked on, "Then being a doctor isnt really for you. You would be better off as a medic. They're like nurses. They don't usually have to get blood on their hands."

"_Usually_?"

"Well, you better look for a career choice other than track." He stood up and turned to leave, "You aren't really all that great at it."

Doc was about to inform him of his near win but the doctor piped up, "Oh, and for someone you says they know little about the body, you are _very_ healthy. Have a good life, Frank DuFresne."

He shut the door and Doc laid back down, deciding sleep might help him clear his head.

His baby blue eyes scanned the ceiling for something of a distraction. But he was met with only one thought that wouldn't go away.

_A pacifist...hmmm..._


	7. Wash Cycle

Lynn sighed as she listened to her two coworkers bicker back and forth before deciding she should clock out early. They were known to go for fifteen minute rounds of high pitched arguing before finally giving the routine a rest and Lynn didn't have fifteen minutes to do. She had to get back home to her baby. _Single mothers need fucking awards_, she thought numbly, it was hardly any fun and as rewarding as her little guys face was when he playfully grinned in genuine joy to see her home, sometimes she just couldn't melt out of the cold exterior of her work.

Being a nurse for the Covenant victims too injured to stay in the army was difficult. The soldiers, battered within hours of their life, were honorably discharged and sent back to Lynn and her crew, only to be put on hospice and have their families informed about the upcoming funeral costs they wouldn't be able to afford.

It hurt to know the pain in their eyes, the sobs in their voices when they tried to speak clearly. It was difficult, and Lynn prayed every night, with her little man at her side that she wouldn't find her husband on her table as she gave him the best she could offer to help him die in peace. There weren't any lives saved really, just extended. But she and her crew did the best they could and sometimes that wasn't enough to play God. Sometimes...sometimes it was just the end of the line and all you could say was goodbye. That cold fire ignited when you realized, that despite all you had done, you had been fooled- by yourself no less- to think you could make miracles happen. Caleen and T.L were the head doctors and when they fucked up, everyone knew. That's when the arguments started. Lynn wasn't waiting for it to end.

They could cut her pay if they wanted to. Her baby was waiting.

Her David.

She stood from her desk, wrapped her coat over her scrubs and logged off her computer; cleaning her mind of the data she had just inputted. Of the deaths she had just cataloged. She closed her eyes once and then spoke over her shouting bosses.

"I'm leaving early today. David is at home alone and I would like to see him off to school in the morning." She checked her watch and frowned at the blinking 12: 57 A.M. She exhaled, realizing she hadn't been loud enough to overshadow Caleen's shrill accusations and T.L's commanding insults. A dead soldier lay between them on the operating table. T.L paused long enough to notice her facial expression and waved his hand in approval of her request, not caring at the moment what that request was. She happily explained nothing and left the building.

Once she had arrived on the doorstep she summoned a smile, a real smile and pulled out her keys to unlock the door. She didn't though. She waited for a familiar fury of footsteps to meet the jingling keys and a series of twists to throw the door open in excitement. But David didn't meet her at the door. She waited no longer and unlocked it herself, pushing it open and throwing her stuff to the side to glare around the empty house. It was huge thanks to her occupation and her husband's status as a soldier, so honestly she shouldn't have been worried.

Even she sometimes got lost in the damn house. But David was here all day after school and he knew every room like the body he owned.

"David!" She shut the door after a chilled breeze reminded her it was open and twisted her head around. A whimper found her ear and she followed it up the stairs and into David's room. She scanned, found nothing and groaned, "Dave...What's the matter baby?"

"Mom?" Came the disembodied reply.

She turned towards the heating vent and smiled. He was in the basement. The vents made for good games of telephone sometimes. She flew back down the stairs and then down another set behind the hallway, finding her sons slouched form on the stairs. His hands covered his eyes and he was obviously distressed.

"What's wrong baby?"

"Lynn...Mom. I am so sorry I-I _**tried**_ to...to-you know- wash my own sheets but..."

_Wash sheets? Ah, he had an accident._ She sighed and he reacted with further fear. His hands gesturing wildly.

"I'm _sorry_! I didn't drink anything before I went to sleep and I went to the bathroom first too, but still-"

"David, it's alright. Accidents happen-"

"They're not supposed to happen this often, mom! And it's not just the_ stupid_ bed! I tried to wash them and the damn-"

"_David_!" She snarled.

"The **dumb** thing overflowed and now the washer won't work either!"

_Good Lord..._

"It looks like our whole family had a bad case of poor luck, huh..." She descended the stairs and draped her coat over his pj clad form before inspecting the washer. Her eyes lit with horror when she saw the machine had basically been flipped to its side. "How in the hell-Da-You..." She cleared her throat and her rage, "It's alright baby. How about we get you into bed. Did you wash yourself up?"

He shrugged sheepishly, "Not really. I wanted to get the sheets clean before you got off and I didn't know you'd be home...early."

_So** that's** why he didn't greet me. I forgot._

"So you've been soaking in your own piss this whole time? David that is absolutely unna-"

"Well, no, see I fought the washer-"

"You fought the washer."

"Listen! It was jumping around everywhere and so I grabbed it but it was stronger and it- like- lunged at me and then it...it flipped over." He muttered.

"What's that have to do with you washing your ass David?"

"Well the washer was overflowing really bad, so I got wash water all over myself."

She looked away from those narrowed gray-hazel eyes and took in the fact that the hem of his pajama pants were dripping.

"Upstairs, David. Upstairs for a bath...I'll deal with this tomorrow." She stepped over him and he immediately followed after her, dark hair mildly curled in its dampness. He stopped by her side and took her hand.

"Do you forgive me?"

"As long as you promise to never ever try anything like that when I'm not home again. You're only eight."

"...I'm sorry."

He leaned into her hand and sighed, "How was work?"

"Work, sweetie, was work. Nothing more and nothing less. I seen a lot of people die today, just like yesterday. Just like tomorrow."

"You'll save someone one day." He said flatly.

"Really?" She sat down by the banister, outside the bathroom door, "And what wise man told you that?"

"Dad."

She shot him a look, "When did you talk to **him**?"

"He was in the nightmare I had. He was hurt and he was looking for you. But, I told him not to because people who come to you usually die and he said that."

"What?"

"I know, I didn't get it either. He said that you'll save someone someday. He said we couldn't possibly be so cursed. I said, 'yeah you're right' and then I walked with him to your hospital place and T.L and that loud lady operated and he just died. It was the worst dream ever."

"Of all time, it sounds like. That's horrible. Was I in it?"

He turned over to her and frowned in scrutiny, racking his memory. "No. But T.L's daughter was in it. That girl that I played with last week."

"C.T. I still don't know that girls real name. She goes by her initials like her dad. What happened to you? In the dream?"

"I went to find you, and then I woke up and..." His eyes glazed over with the faraway look his father perfected the last time he'd sent Lynn a picture. Clearly the answer was a heavy one.

"Proceeded to fuck up my washer and the sheets I just bought you?" She offered.

"Yeah." He laughed. She pressed her hand on top of his messy spikes/curls and jostled his head, soliciting soft giggles for her antic.

"I like your afro."

"Thanks. I like your crew cut."

She ran a hand over her neatly styled short hair, "Its not a crew cut."

"Its not an afro," He mocked her.

"Touche'."

She let his hair go and he leaned into her side.

"You know, mom." He went inside and began running his own water, something Lynn hadn't even known he knew how to do, and stripped his clothes off.

"Yeah?"

"I thought today was going to be the worst day ever, but you just made it way better."


	8. Rinse Cycle

Optimism wasn't worth what is was beginning to cost. David wanted to be grateful for his fathers return. To be happy about his mothers

lifted spirits. He had the privilege of relating to his friends when they spoke of the classic family relations. Pleasant ,talkative , dinners and

board games. Lots of Television together.

But those stories weren't his. He knew that. His fathers return had been a despondent one. Though his life was in tact his pride was less

so. For the first month of his being back he sat on the stairs, saying nothing to David or his mother. Only speaking to himself or people he

thought were there.

In his quiet voice, he would struggle through the only sentence he seemed to know, knotting his tongue and wringing his hands together

as though trying to force the _blood_ out of them.

"Personality disorder is a _fucking_ joke...discharge me, those idiots."

"Dad." David knew he wouldn't respond to the title, it really just made his own heart heal. For years he had referred only to his mother.

Nothing concerning his father had ever been any fun. Parent teacher night with only one parent. He hadn't minded much as a child, but as

a teen it started to bother him. You can't exactly talk about females with your mother. When you get caught trying to woo a chick in your

living room, your mother isn't exactly the _best_ person to walk in on you, exhausted from work and impatient no less. David's father fit the

bill in parentage only. He shared few words with David except to ask who he was and as for Lynn...the few times he realized his wife was

there, he was even more abrasive than he was with the imaginary people he pantomimed his rage to from the steps. Maybe she looked

like someone he hadn't liked.

He'd been like that for three years and It had been years, apparently, since he first began showing signs of s

some sort of personality disorder. The army just waited until shortly after Davids 16th b day to decide they were fed up with it and

discharge his crazy ass.

When he ranted, it was easy to sidestep him. When he was quiet, as he was this day, David had to sneak to avoid being forced into an

awkward conversation in which he would have to pretend to be whoever his father thought he was venting at.

He stepped towards the door without sound, but as he turned his sneakers squeaked against the linoleum of the front door and drew his

fathers silver eyes up immediately. He stilled as they dimly scanned the room for movement. He was listless on a good day. His eyes lazily

found the ground then traveled up where his sons head would be had he not shifted closer to the door in the time it had taken him to find

the floor and focus. Unfortunately, watching him struggle to make images out of the world sometimes struck the unending pit of empathy

in Davids chest. Hesitantly he waved a hand.

"David!" His father immediately turned the glinting silver of his eyes towards his son as he pulled his backpack on, "David."

It took him a second but he finally realized he hadn't called him some general, but his own name. "You...You know who I am?" He asked

over his shoulder.

"What? Don't be stupid, boy. You're my son. You told me that yesterday."

Of Course...

"Dad, I have to be getting to school." He was telling the truth, in essence. But he felt guilty for having to abandon his father in one of his

rare moments of lucidity. Still, it couldn't be helped. School was priority. It was far more important that he make himself available for any

and all manner of work. Even if a spot in the army were to open, David was pretty sure he would take it. There wasn't much left where he

was anyway. His mother was running out of a job with the newest soldiers fairing poorly in battle. And if that happened, David wasn't

sure what he would do. Or could do, really. His fathers mental capacity meant he would need support for the rest of his life. Despite a

great lingering respect from his childhood for his father, David had no intention of nursing his allusions for the rest of any one of their lives.

He himself still wanted to pursue his dream of being a soldier.

"I need to go. If I fail this final I wont graduate." He slipped around him and passed out the door. He didn't have any finals. He didn't even

plan on going to school today. He was heading to a friends house instead. Straight A students were allowed to do so...or so he figured.

He checked his backpack to make sure he could afford lunch since he wouldn't be consuming the one provided by his school. His fingers

sifted through a small penchant of change and the tip of a bill. Glancing in he accounted for 5.78 and flipped his bag back to his back in

order to focus on the road ahead of him. It didn't take him long at all to reach a home isolated in the center of a rampant complex.

Tenants stood on their porches staring at him with curiosity while the children, loosed barefoot upon the streets, watched idly. The

houses didn't seem like they would be able to stand a rainy day let alone the heat that oppressed the streets today, but the residents

looked none too bothered as they reclined on their porches. C.T's house was different. Her neighbors were just as nosy, but just for the

sake of it. She also now went to his school. That was a plus and a minus. A plus because she was an excellent tutor for any subjects he

was lacking in, a minus because his absence would prompt her to question her father who would question his mother who would then

interrogate him. He shrugged. One day of ditching after perfect attendance shouldn't concern her too much. He stopped at the last door

on the right and knocked twice, something he had made up as a code for his friend. He answered immediately with one knock then pulled

the door open.

Messy dark hair, hazel eyes, and light skin. Micah. The quietest kid in his class. The only reason they had become friends was because

David had helped him cheat on a math test. In Return, Micah had decided to personally keep Davids bully quota in the single digits.

Micah squinted his eyes to adjust to the white blaze of the sun, half eclipsed by the dark curls of David's tilted head. Like usual he wore

brown basketball shorts and a white T-Shirt, a furry snout peeking from behind his calves. Once he had his bearings he smirked, "Hey."

"yeah, Whats up." David remarked with faux enthusiasm, " Come on, let me in it's hot as Hades out here. Hey, Quincy."

The old dog grunted in response much like his owner as he held the door open before shutting it behind the two of him. David dropped his

belongings by the door and set himself down on the couch disturbing the old hound as it nestled nearby. The canine flicked a nose of

greeting up, allowed him to touch it, then laid back down having recognized his scent. Or maybe not. Quincy was basically neutral when

it came to the people who went in and out of Micah's house. Maybe the fact that it was empty today played a part.

"You know, I thought that by now he would've learned to bark at unfamiliar people. He seems okay with just letting them in. I know he

used to sniff out guns but...ever thought about just finding a new watchdog?"

Micah stood across the table and regarded the Mutt with disinterest, "No. Too late"

"True. Quincy is pretty old isn't he. Like 8 or 9...how much is that in dog years? Or human years?"

"Too old." Micah sat beside his friend with a granola bar which he broke in half with one hand and handed to David, the smaller portion of

course.

"Not in the mood to share?" David muttered.

"No food."

"Makes sense." He reached into his bag and handed Micah the $5.78.

"Know how much that is divided by two?"

Micah groaned, but it was a default groan. He made more noises than his dog. His eyes scanned the cluttered table before returnng to

the patently waiting David. He stretched his fingers out towards him and David handed him a sheet of paper and a pencil.

"You remember the right way to divide it right?"

"Mm." Micah scribbled the number down, adding a crippled 2 under it before scratching a line. He looked at Davd for approval.

"Keep going. You haven't even solved the problem yet."

Micah obediently turned back to the paper and started with the 8. He turned the paper here and there then handed it back to David.

"Not quite. 5.78 divided by 2 is 2.89. Not 2.86. You must've carried something wrong."

He shrugged as David handed him the five and kept the change. "Not mine."

"Oh, I know. You can get change when we go to the store."

"Mm."

David pushed the paper aside and reclined against the couch. " Well, my old dog was pretty good at actually guarding the house. But then

my dad-"

Micah nodded his understanding. This wasn't the first pet he'd learned of that had been disbanded thanks to Davids dad believing he

could provide for his own family better than any house pet. Besides that always put his classmate in a sour mood. A change in topic would

be wise. But something told him that his father was exactly what David wanted to talk about.

" Your dad?"

"Yeah. "

He nodded as a form of encouragement. David obliged by opening his mouth. Then he shut it. Opened it. Stuttered and shut it again.

"Um...how to put this...I want to join the army."

Micah raised his eyebrows and laughed with no humor. His way of showcasing the slim likeliness of that being a smart idea.

"I'm serious! I want to join. Eh-How else am I going to- look. I've wanted for _years_ to join the army, just because my dad is..."

Micah wiggled his fingers at his temples and rolled his head onto his shoulders.

"Right. Just because my dad is..." He mimicked the gesture, "Doesn't mean I wont manage in the army. I know I can do it. That's why I

took up ROTC. It's what I want. What I've always wanted."

"Mm."

"My mom would disagree, I know. She's scared I'll come back like dad. Or- you know- not cme back at all. But its what I want. I've learned

to use a gun too-"

Micah shot him a look that frightened Quincy. He plodded in place with agitated whines before concluding alarm took too much effort and

lying down again with a snort. "Guns?"

"MY dad has guns. He hides them- actually, my _mom_ hides them inside the closet so he won't hurt himself or us. I practice sometimes in

the forest by the creek."

"Bad."

"Its not bad, Micah. I'm a _really, __**really good**_ shot. I hit a bird through a shroud of like six trees! I know I can do it...Besides, C.T is always

with me when I practice."

Micah raised a brow with a smirk."Who?"

"She's a..." He flushed, "...friend... of my-my moms. Of my moms friend." David face-palmed himself over the sound of Micah s snickers.

"Oh, sh-Shut up. She's not a girly girl. I-We-She-She's a tomboy."

"Mm-hm."

"Whatever. Come on." He pulled him to his feet by his wrist and headed towards the door. They locked it behind them ignoring Quincy's

weak scratching and moaning.

It was closer to David's house than Micah's so it took a while of comfortable silence and footsteps to make it there. Also a few tired

moments of fear as they snuck around Davids familiar neighborhood. They stopped near the door and David nodded to the owner. A tall

scruffy man who didn't trust teens having had his store robbed many times before. He frowned down at the two ditching teens, lingering

on David since he recognized him.

"uh, Hello Mr. Mark." He muttered sheepishly.

He felt Micah's amused agitation beside him but ignores it, nudging his friend forward to go in Now was as good a time as ever fr him to

practice spending money. Micah hesitated, glaring at the owner before he went in, while David waited outside. He would've gone in

himself and left Micah outside, (to make sure Micah got the right amount of change), But his phone was ringing.

Vibrating really.

He looked at the screen and frowned.

C.T.

'**_Whats up_**.' He typed back.

It only took her a moment but she responded with a million erratic typos, something she did when she typed too fast.

_God, You know her too well._

'**_yur Dad fufn yourr gun_**!'

'Dad' and 'Gun' made all the sense necessary. David immediately left the store front and made a beeline for home. Micah could have the change.


	9. Dry Cycle

Run.

_He's going to die!_

Run.

**_He'll kill her! Hell Kill her!_**

Run, goddamn it, **RUN!**

He turned the corner too fast and lost his footing, only saving his ass by grabbing the neighbors gate. He used it to reroute his

momentum forward and kept sprinting down his block. God, the store had never seemed so far.

Had he not been panicking he probably would've thought to ask C.T. _how_ she knew.

_How did she-_

Oh. **God**. _No_.

He skid to a halt and called her number. She picked up after the first ring, a siren sounding behind her. He knew it wasn't a joke now. The

question died on his tongue replaced by another, more relevant one.

"Who's dead?"

C.T.'s breath hitched, he heard it. Then she sighed, "Nobody yet. We left the house ten minutes ago-"

Damn!It had taken him ten fucking minutes just to run from the store to his block.

"-Just get to the hospital. Not your mom's, we had to go somewhere closer. Its about eight blocks away from your house." She whispered

something to whoever was near her but David had stopped listening.

He had never been good with words, or explaining. But he was shocked at how easily the next few sentences came out of him.

"I am so sorry. So sorry. I killed them. He killed her. Its all-"

"David! Calm down you didn't-

"-my fault. My fucking fault!" He screamed into the phone, just wanting C.T. to shut up for a moment, "I did this! Practicing with that stupid

gun! C.T. They're...are they going to die?"

"..."

He fell to his knees and started crying. The sobs soon turned angry though and he threw the phone away from him, waiting to revel in the

sound of it crashing to the ground. When he didn't hear it he brought his arm up to rub his eyes. said arm was yanked forward, forcing

him to his feet and he stared into the angry eyes of Micah. Angry eyes that weren't even on him, but the phone he had thrown. Micah may

not have been one for math but he could work gadgets. He was systematically drumming in the keys when he let David go.

"My parents-"

He shut up as Micah pushed some money into his hand, eyes still on the phone.

"Change."

Urgency filled David chest as he stuffed the currency into his pockets. "My change? Micah, my parents-"

"Pay attention." He flipped the phone around to show his hysterical friend the message C.T. had sent him as well as the address to the

hospital they were all at. "Clothes." Micah added.

"Change my clothes? There's no time, we have to get there! They're hurt-"

"The gun?"

"Yes, the damn gun! My dad found it and I think he tried to kill himself and my mom!"

"You checked the house, then?"

David paused to adjust to the unusually long sentence then shook his head, " No."

"Guns are bad." Micah muttered matter of flatly, handing his friend his phone, "Come on." He ran off towards the address and David

immediately followed.

"We're running?"

"Unless you can fly."

"Running it is."

"C.T. thinks we are at _school_."

David gave the directions a second look and shouted at himself, "You have got to be FUCKING kidding me! So how many blocks away is

this hospital then? I knew I shouldn't have ditched! This is just my family's luck- the one day I ditch some unspeakable tragedy happens!

W-would if I'm late? Would if they die? God, it should have been m-"

Micah rapped his phone against his forehead to cut him off then shrugged noncommittally. He had given up trying to convince his friend

that his family was choosing the wrong line of work. Nurse to war victims, Soldier, and now future soldier were all dangerous, risky

professions. But now wasn't the time to point that out.

"Go to the school. Run eight blocks." He suggested.

David was still noticeably shaking but he nodded," Okay...you're right. We go to school, then find that address." Even as he spoke he had

started jogging forward. Micah followed his lead and the two ran like maniacs towards their school.

It took five blocks for the exhaustion to set n and both boys were noticeably dragging their feet. Micah stopped and hunched over to catch

his breath. David wanted to do the same but he was too afraid something other than air would leave his mouth. He was still twitching.

Even his legs were wobbling. But he stayed on his feet.

"We need a ride." Micah huffed, "School is 7 blocks alone..."

great...

"Does that-huh- include the few we just-" He gasped, "-ran?"

Micah panted and shook his head, "Are you-" He did his crazy gesture, "No. "

"Alright then. I'm desperate." David rushed into the street in front of the nearest oncoming car. A black beauty of an automobile. The man

behind the wheel, just as dark and diaper as his vehicle, calmly applied his breaks and raised dark eyebrows at the boy who almost

decorated his hood, pale lips curved down.

Geez, f David had ever felt like he was wasting another persons time, this was it.

Micah gaped,"What are you doing?"

"Improvising!"

The driver stayed silent.

"Yes!" David threw his arms out, "Please! I-"

"We!" Micah corrected him from the curb.

"-We need a ride! Please! My parents were just in a gun dispute and they're at a nearby hospital! We just need to-to...wait!" The driver

stopped mid U-turn and leaned out his window, an expensive looking watch on his wrist reminding David how far this mans patience

would be willing to stretch.

"My dad..." This guy is unnerving, "My m-my father is an ex-soldier. He found a firearm and-and my school, our school is by the hospital

where they-um, please I just need - need you to- to please just drop us off there."

The man lowered his eyebrows so they just touched the tops of his glasses and waved a hand towards his back seat.

"R-really? All right!" He grabbed Micah's wrist and slung his shocked friend into the car. David immediately strapped himself in while Micah

just kept his eyes on the man ahead of them.

"Thanks." He breathed, grunting as the man pulled off with a little whiplash. He glanced at Davids shaking hands then back to the man.

"I'm Micah. David." He introduced prodding his buddy in his side.

"Mah name is Leonard, boys," His southern accent made the boys stifle chuckles, "You're lucky Ah happun to be headin' towards a high

school. Lookin' for young men willing to join the military n the future. Where's this school your talkin' about?"

"Um," David rattled off the address, wringing his hands in his lap. This is what Dad does..is this what it's like to feel completely unstable?

"Same school, boy. Very lucky indeed. Jump out." He pulled beside the school and let the two out. As soon as David's feet hit concrete he

flew off, Micah paused though, "Thank you."

"Sure son, take this before you friend trips." He handed him a card with a number on top, "Anything happens, call me. I have pull. Might be

able to help."

"Than-"

"Catch you friend." The man reminded him, rolling his windows back up and stepping out. He watched the two run for a moment before

heading into the school.

Micah navigated with the phone and they ran. trudged.

Eight blocks in heat that wasn't felt. David knew he should've been sweating like a pig but he felt nothing but cold dread down his spine.

Several times Micah had to reach back and snatch his wrist forward to keep him focused. Several times David wanted to turn and run

somewhere else and several times C.T's ringtone seemed to burn through his pocket in her attempts to update him. He didn't want to

hear it. He wanted to see for himself just what had happened.

Do you really though? He had had the chance to see the damage when he was a few blocks from his house and he had left it. Didn't

matter. He would see it himself.

That way it was so much easier to believe that the the two of them were fine.

They shoved the doors of the hospital open when they arrived but no one was at the front desk. David did notice a very pensive looking

C.T staring out the window though. As if sensing his presence she turned her eyes on him, some sort of emotion was pulling at the

corners of her lips but it never developed. At least David didn't see it. Micah's loud tapping on the reception glass had distracted him.

"Not so hard." David warned him, though he wanted to just throw a chair through the glass to save them both the time and effort. C.T

effectively did both though as she stood up. David hadn't seen her. Her just heard her feet shift, her school skirt crinkle into place.

"Your father found the gun on his own, David." Her voice hardened, "It had nothing to do with you."

He finally gave her his full attention, joined by a now intrigued Micah who up until that point hadn't even noticed C.T.

"They're here, right? Are they alright?"

She gave a silent nod then a gentle disagreeing head-shake in response to his second question.

"Then spit it out! What _happened_?" the latter question came out as more of a plea.

Maybe he wanted her to lie to him, like she usually did.

"Your dad thought your mom was someone else. He shot her in the chest when she came down the stairs."

Davids world crumbled away. All his memories, his thoughts, his life seemed so short suddenly. So wasted. He wasn't close enough to

smack C.T like he wanted to.

Why hit her? She hasn't done anything wrong...

But he was close enough to a chair to finally allow himself to fold into it and growl.

Micah filled the grieving semi-silence with a hushed,"She's dead?"

Apparently C.T hadn't noticed hm ether. She looked up with wide eyes as chocolate a brown as her ponytail and shook her head, "I don't

know yet. We're waiting for something. They're doing their best to stabilize her. She did...um," She stepped away from David to Micah so

he wouldn't hear, "His father is in worse shape. She got the gun away from him and shot him in his back before he could get the gun

again. He's probably going to be paralyzed. His parents are good shots. They both went for the fatal blow."

Micah gave a solemn nod, "C.T., Right?"

"Yeah. But you can call me Connie. Doesn't really seem like the time to be making intro's but, who're you?" She whispered, returning to

David's side and rubbing his back in gentle circles.

"Micah."

"Nice to meet you." She seated herself on the arm of the chair by David, cooing things in his ear. Whatever she was saying was having

the desired affect. He leaned into her lap, and though he was being very quiet, Micah could tell he was crying, struggling to breath

through C.T's skirt as he concealed his sobs of defeat. He returned to the reception desk and grabbed the box of tissue before handing it

to C.T. She was petting Davids head like a shivering kitten and losing her fingers n the loose curls and sweat matted spikes.

"Friends?" He asked meaningfully.

"Not the kind your thinking of. We grew up together. Both our parents were doctors."

"Are." Micah cleared his throat, "Both your parents ARE doctors."

"Right..."

He left her side and fished through his shorts to find the card the man had given him. With his other hand and produced Davids phone and

dialed the number.

The man picked up with a smirk in his voice, "You one of the young men from earlier?"

"...yes sir."

"David or Micah?"

"Micah."

"Well, whats you situation?"

"Both his parents are in critical condition. His father-"

"Micah!" C.T hissed.

He lowered his voice with an aggravated grunt, "His father was struck in the back. His mom in the chest."

"Whats the damage?"

"Damage?"

"What was hit? Actually, do yourselves a favor. Bring this phone to the head doctor and tell him Doctor Leonard Church would like to

speak to him."

Micah stared at the doors, auto-locked, then back at the empty reception desk.

"Okay." He reached into the window and grabbed the phone, dialing randomly. As he hoped a nurse came up front to figure out the

reason for the dial tone and grimaced at hm.

"Young man you are not to touch-"

"Let me in."

"What?"

Micah held out the phone to the glass, "Doctor Leonard Church would like to speak to your doctor. Head doctor. The one working on Lynn

and Daniel."

The doctors name alone had her buzzing him in. David hadn't noticed or Micah was sure he would've tried to accompany him. Not even

C.T. looked up. He followed the nurse to the back and handed her the phone. he didn't want to see the mess.

"You give it to hm-uh- please. That phone belongs to the son of the injured."

The nurse nodded and sent him back up front.

The three teens sat in silence partially because Micah and David had fallen asleep, Micah on Davids shoulder and David in C.T.'s lap. It was

a few hours at best before A doctor left the back room and stood at the doorway with a thin lipped expression. His cheeks gaunt as if

something had just forced him at gunpoint out the doors.

"Which one of you s David?"

C.T gave him a look and nudged both David and Micah awake . Both boys sat up groggily, legs sore. Davids eyes were practically stuck

together with tears but he rubbed them open t focus on the man.

"What did he say?"

Micah grumbled something and then shifted in his seat to lay his head on the back f the char.

"He said who's David."

David jumped to his feet. "That's me."

"Yes, sit down son. Your father will recover, as will your mother. She sustained wounds to her upper chest, her lung, but we were able to

extract the bullet and no permanent damage to the pulmonary artery and the aorta has been done. Normally we would admit your father

to a mental hospital due to his...violent tendencies. But someone high up has convinced me to allow him to stay with your family and get

free mental therapy. Your mother is being given the highest treatment thanks to that someone. She will be on a thoracostomy tube for a

while-"

"Your-um, your losing him doctor."

The doctor looked from C.T to David as he sank back into his chair with a heavy exhale. Micah was smiling as well and C.T. was giggling.

The doctor couldn't help but smile as well. Two boys, both mussed and rumpled and a young woman unkempt and smiling. It was a nice

picture.

"Want to hear the rest or..."

David waved a dismissive hand up and Micah translated, "We're good."

"Well your parents will be able to return home in about a week young man. The bills have been taken care of courtesy of Doctor Lenard

Church. D you have someone to stay with?"

"Leonard?" David looked to Micah who was stretching in his seat, "The guy who gave us a ride?"

"Yeah."

"Where's my phone?"

Micah handed him the gadget and he found the number and saved it, "I have to thank him. He gave me my life back."

"What life?" C.T. joked. He punched her in the arm and snorted.

"Wait." They all turned to the doctor, still standing n the doorway, "Before you do that, do you have a person to stay with?"

David went to reply that his family was distant, but Micah interjected, "He'll stay with my family. We're...cousins."

"Right...I just have to ask. I'm not going to legally look into it." He turned and retired, "You'll be able to visit tomorrow."

The moment he was gone, David slumped in his seat, "This was the-" He supplemented Micah's 'crazy' gesture,"-est day..."

"_Ever_." C.T. added.

"Of all fucking time." Micah lifted the phone from David's hand and then tapped him with it.

"In a sec...I need a minute. I'll thank him," He sighed hazily, "In a minute."


	10. Soldiers Don't Cry

**_Author Note_**

**__**_So it would appear that I forgot Church's childhood chapter by accident...I think. I will upload them chronologically and correct their order tonight.  
>So moving on, thank you for all your reviews! They do indeed encourage me to keep up my work. Your are all so very sweet. Thank you to everyone who has alerted or Favorited! Now for my plans for this story in the future. I have concluded the childhood of all the characters (save Church :[ ) and I am now going to do everyones B)teenage years, followed by C) Collegetheir indictment into the army, then D)their reason for getting sent to Blood Gulch and finally E) their conclusions.  
><em>

_So, without further or do! Part One of Donuts Teenage story. His will be the only one to begin with him still being relatively young. So, Crack on!  
><em>

She snatched his wrist forward, both their feet barely even whispering against the black charred asphalt. Donut wasn't mute, but the

entire time they ran he'd..._forgotten_ how to speak. Couldn't get his tongue to do much more then press against the back of clenched

teeth.

He heard screams like police sirens torn from throats he couldn't see. When he looked for the source of the sounds, he found his eyes had

not yet adjusted to the darkness. Rubbing them, he only realized how tired he still was, which brought up another point: _Shouldn't I be_

_asleep?_

His mothers feet never stopped, but she had to have been feeling the disorientation too. Still, her feet-bare and dirty-never stopped. Not

even when his did and she pulled him onto her back so as not to drag him.

"Mom?"

She paused, crouched beside a dumpster, eyes wide, mouth thin and a pale finger was pushed before her lips, "_Shh,_ Franklin. Hush. Be

very quiet, alright? Lets play _Double O Donut._"

The offer ebbed some of his fear, but not the curiosity, " Why did we just run out of the house so early? I don't even have on my good

boots." He kicked his naked feet against the ground, " Who are we running from?"

"Soldiers."

"Like dad? The soldiers came home? _Sweet_! Let's throw a party. I'll be a _fabulous_ host!"

"_No_, no, no. _Not_ like your father...the _covenant_ soldiers."

Donut spared a glance at their surroundings through adjusted eyes. A few things were on fire in the distance, but the direction everyone

was running in was clear.

_I am **so** not ready to be a solider yet. I haven't even **trained**! How am I supposed to protect mom? Okay, Franklin. Work some magic._

"Oh. Um, well, that's okay! We just need to- Hey, I'll take you up on your offer!"

Elenor gave him a questioning look as she went to stand,"Offer?"

"The game, duh!_ Double O Donut_. We'll play alright? That'll take our minds off- _you know_."

She smiled, it was weak, but at least it was there.

"Don't look so frowny, mom."

"Don't worry, we'll get out of here. They're evacuating people just a few miles up. If-" She covered her mouth, eyes broader, "_When_ we get there we'll be safe."

Donut smiled. This was going to be the most exciting game of _Double O Donut_ ever! His mom- the whole town was practically in on it.

"But all these new characters...can _I_ still be Double O Donut?"

Something nearby made a hissing sound and before Donut could think his mother had taken off, dragging him in her rush, and was far

away from the alley when the fizzle became a ruddy cloud of fire. Donut could see it from her back.

"Quiet, okay?"

"Okay."

He knew he should've been terrified. But he just couldn't take it seriously. He hid his smile in the folds of her nightgown as they ducked

down behind a different dumpster. His momma had always had a good arm, but he had no idea she could be a _full blown agent_!

She pulled him to her chest where the fabric of her gown expanded with her heavy breaths, and began running again. This time, her feet were loud in her haste.

"Whoa, Mom. That was freakin' impressive."

She nodded her head, still running, "Instinct."

"You can be agent...um, _Triple_ O Donut."

"Sounds good! Think you can...run?"She gasped.

He stood up and took her hand, "Okey-dokey. Come on."

They stopped by the edge of the alley and Elen peeked her head out. Seeing nothing, she led him into the sea of frightened people. Feet,

arms, elbows, hair, sweat, legs. Donut was only as tall as the average knee so it took for most of the crowd to be loaded onto the two

remaining aircraft for him to see the large metal savior. He could hear it more than see it. Rhythmic flapping, it sounded like.

Overlapping questions, statements, opinions. Some of the din was just noise. Children whining, babies crying. A little grunting and

groaning. There was slight panic as families called out for separated family members. Blaring over that were the joyful cries of those

reunited.

Static drowned words escaped the radios joined at the hips of the soldiers.

_"...two...bravo."_

_"Roger that, standby..."_

_" Engage...multiple enemy...according..."_

_"Permission to engage!"_

_"Caution..."_

It would've been jaw dropping for him under different circumstances.

He was elbowed but it didn't bother him. Someone stepped on his bare feet with heavy boots, but he kept going. Everybody did. Some

people were on the ground, being helped up. Some stayed still not wanting to get stepped on or lost. Some didn't get up at all.

A few soldiers were gesturing to other refugees the correct direction. Donuts attention didn't linger, he didn't really like guns he realized.

_Hopefully I'll only have to use mine for fighting the covenant._

A loud recoil from a heavy gun snapped him back to. It shook the ground and rattled his rib cage. Elen jerked in the opposite direction of

the sound, hefting Donut with her. A long upward advancement of red light went into the sky, all eyes followed and reflected it. It was

the soldiers. The good soldiers. They were firing flares to alert the civilians. But the civilians didn't show up.

The covenant did.

Donut knew from their silhouettes through the smoke that they weren't human. His eye snagged on the irregular curve of the Aliens bent

leg and followed the limb up to the almost oval shaped armored head. The shadow thrust an arm of direction up and many other shadows

appeared against the distant city walls to oblige the command. The hand was curled, two fingers missing. A new light suddenly appeared

as the first alien became visible from the stealth of the wall. It was a sword that was glowing in the creatures hand. Its jaws sagged

under the weight of razor teeth and as it turned, its body animating every breath, It noticed Donut and he noticed it, unable to offer any

reaction more sophisticated than a mortified gawk. As he squinted, his mother tucked him under her arm and pushed to the front of the

crowd where the aircraft there was already rising away from the ground. A dark armored soldier stood near the outside, hanging onto the

door.

"There isn't enough room ma'am, I'm sorry! We can't compromise those aboard to the Covenant!"

"_No!_ No, not for me! _Please_! Just take my son!"

The soldier looked under her arm to the blond head staring back at him. Dispirited eyes met gold visor and the spartan hesitantly and

jerkily nodded, kneeling down and reaching out a hand.

"You'll have to throw him! If the pilot finds out I'm allowing anyone else on board he'll flip. _Throw_ him!"

Elen pulled Donut from under her arm and embraced him with all the property she usually reserved for throwing. It hurt really, but Donut

didn't say anything about the pain. He just tried and failed to reach his own arms around his mothers back to return the warm hug.

"Mom, are we still playing the game or-"

"Franklin _Delano _Donut."

He shut his mouth and buried his face in her shoulder. Her lips shivered by his ear.

"Remember your promise?"

"Yup!"

"Keep it. When they ask you where you're going, tell them you have family in Iowa who will take you-"

"**_Ma'am_**!" The soldier was getting second thoughts, she could hear it. Coupled with the maddened cries of the various mothers in the

crowd as they held their own children, knowing relief was no longer an option.

"Ready for your jet pack?" She asked, pulling him away so he could see her face. Just as she'd hoped, when he seen a smile rather than

tears on her face he mellowed and nodded.

"I'll catch up later!" She pulled him back and then with all her strength, she threw him above her head.

The soldier had to flatten himself against the floor to reach down and even then he almost let Donut slip through his fingers, only keeping

a grip on the red shirt he was wearing.

"Hang on kid!"

The furious mothers below suddenly sounded more like a room full of vacuum cleaners as they inhaled their insults and complaints at

Donuts helplessly dangling form.

Donut himself had been too excited to make a sound other than his jet pack effects, but feeling his momentum and then _body_ drop, he

wailed frantically.

"_Waaaaaaaah_! Pull me up! I knew this day would come! The end! The end!"

"Shut up, kid! Just stop wiggling!"

The aircraft as well as everyone's eyebrows rose higher.

"Lift me up! Lift me up!"

"For God's sake!"

Another woman on board rushed to the front to grab his arm just as he slipped out of his shirt. He had instinctively reached for his

mother with his free arm, an act that almost made her lose her smile down below. Luckily, Donut was too high up to see her tears, so she

let them free and began praying for another craft to come soon. Gun shots split the chaos with order as the remaining soldiers left behind

advanced to push the covenant group into surrender.

Donut whipped around to face the door in fear, but the woman pulled him away. Donut relaxed into her and caught his breath. The wind

whipped against his bare chest even as the soldier thudded forward, forced the door shut and handed Donut his shirt, stretched, but

otherwise fine.

"Thanks lady." He said cheerfully, "I'm Franklin. But um..."

He decided not to add _'most people call me Donut'. _He really didn't want to start missing his mom. She would catch up eventually.

"My name is Jurnee," The woman said gently. She rubbed his shoulder a bit and then looked at the armored soldier.

"You have a _big_ heart."

He hadn't heard that before, Donut figured, because he went rigid, then nodded.

"Thank you Ma'am." Donut added to Jurnee.

The aircraft grew quiet then as Donut moved to the soldiers side.

"Thanks for catching me...sort of."

"No problem kid. Got any family- _other _than your mom?"

Donut shook his little head and pulled his shirt on with shaking hands, "But Mom said I've got family in Iowa. Bet they're nice,"

The soldier nodded absently as Donut prattled on and on and on about all his favorite things from colors to foods.

"-And this tacky red shirt! Well, cant say I'm too bummed out about it." As he pinched the bottom of said shirt, the soldier spoke up.

"Are you..._gay_?"

"Well, not right _now_ I'm not! Who could be gay at a time like this? Everyone seems a little sad. So whats your name anyway? I'm Do-Franklin."

"Names Allison."

The Soldiers mannerisms suddenly made sense. The careful way she had walked around himself and Jurnee. The heart to allow Donut on board. Even the subtle sway of armored hips was elucidated. "You're a _girl_?"

"Yeah, thought the same about you." She joked

"But your voice-"

"Is filtered. Standard equipment."

"Cool. If you can be a soldier, I _know_ I can! Mom thinks..."

Beryl green eyes flashed across his memory.

Quivering lips.

No, that wasn't right at all. Was it? Her eyes hadn't been full of tears. Her lips were still as she spoke.

He faced Allison. No face. Just black and gold tilted towards him.

"Are there more jet things coming for the people who got left behind?"

"You mean for your mom?"

Donut averted his gaze.

There was a clandestine steeliness that cooled the social butterfly in Allison's tone. Bad news was never easy to lay on someone. Let

alone a kid like...well, like _Donut_. But eventually she nodded,"Yeah."

"You aren't lying are you? Its hard for me to tell. I've never lied to anyone before so- please, don't be lying. That would suck."

"I'm not lying kid. It's just that it will take a while for the other ships to get there. They're probably going to have to evacuate the rest of

those people to the next safe zone. The one we were at was going down. The flares were a stupid idea." She muttered to herself.

Donut silently agreed, "When I become a soldier- one like you- I'm going to try to save people too. I thought maybe nice people couldn't

be in the military. My dad was there, nice guy," He added with a homesick smile, "Ya know, I bet you would've really liked him. Would've

been best friends too, maybe."

"I don't-"

"Its okay. Some people weren't his friends. He got shot and he didn't come back home after that."

Allison sighed.

_Never befriend civilians._

It was an important rule. But this child, with eyes like rain puddles under breaking sunlight and a smile that reminded her of receiving a

long wanted Christmas gift; he seemed determined to stay by her side.

She _hated_ clingy men.

Clingy children were another thing.

She just couldn't bring herself to shoo him away.

"Nice people can make it," She told him, touching the pistol at her hip, "They just don't usually last long unless they harden themselves."

"Oh-ho ho, that's easy!" Donut said beaming.

"_Anyway_, everyone's afraid of something. Fear is strength sometimes. Have you ever been so startled when someone grabbed you or

something that you just reached back and punched them for scaring you? Just as a reaction."

Donut squinted in thought then shuddered, "A spider_- ew_- fell on me once and I totally freaked out! I started hitting everything."

"Yeah, it's like that. When you get out there into combat all you care about is living and making sure the people under you live too."

He stood up, "If, um, if its alright, may I sit in your lap?"

"What?" She hadn't meant to sound like a bitch. "Why?" She asked, softer.

"My mom...you know. It just makes me feel comfy."

Allison was tempted to tease the kid more, but she figured the silence that would follow him getting to sit in her lap would be worth it.

She reached down beside her and pulled him up.

" Try to sleep. It's a long way to earth. And that's where Iowa is, private..."

"...Donut." He answered, reposeful.

"Private _Donut._" She wrapped a steel-plated arm around him, "Got a ring to it."

"You think so?" He asked.

Allison smirked behind her armor, "No."


End file.
